Lasting Advice
by RapturousJashinist
Summary: Haymitch had never been prone to giving advice, since generally it was rendered useless. But it seemed, this piece of advice was not going amiss. Haymitch mentors, Finnick listens. One sided slash ensues. -Fluff, angst, Odesta, one sided- Rating based on mature situations, no lemons.


Haymitch Abernathy was a very peculiar man. Although seemingly oblivious and completely clueless to everyone around him, he remained perfectly aware of all that happened around him. He'd grown in a short space of time from a young, helpless boy that was completely naïve, to the man he is today. Some would say it was a bad change- But he knew what the games did to people. And in his mind, he was one of the few that got out lucky. He remembered every single game- Not just his own. The crowd of nervous faces, some breaking under pressure. The first day, the numbers dwindling. The countless amounts of Tributes that relied on him to somehow save them, yet he couldn't. Although usually in a drunken stupor, their dying faces still haunted him as much as the images of his dying family. There was nothing he could do to prevent that. Having won at the mere age of 16, he'd learnt in a nutshell that life, it seemed, was unfair. Especially if you happened to be born outside of the Capitol. Faced with the unbearable task of defeating not 24, but 48 young men and women just as lost as he was. But none were faced with what he was now. None of them had sentenced themselves to such a life of confinement and pain. At least, that's what he had assumed.

The 65th Hunger games had concluded splendidly, in the eyes of the Capitol. The charming underdog from District 4 had won, at a shocking age of only 14. Having already captured the hearts of many women in the Capitol, he was already a favourite. Presumably, to Haymitch, he'd won due to his good looks and odd skills. The Capitol loved the oddities and most certainly loved good looks. Having been showered with gifts even in the arena, the boy was most definitely going to win. There he sat, in the middle of a room strewn with celebration and badly dressed Capitol citizens. Lazily sloped sideways on a chair, his long legs stretched before him. His white cotton shirt was haphazardly buttoned, half of his bronzed chest being exposed. He wore simple beaded necklaces and his fiery hair was as messy as ever. His sea green eyes observed the sights around him as he nodded robotically in response to all of the women's doting questions. Although he smiled, his eyes were dead. Haymitch knew that look, for it had been the one he'd worn on his face for all of these years. A chord of pity struck his chest- So young. It was always the young good looking ones that didn't get out alive, at all. It disgusted him, watching all of the men and women streaming around him, throwing compliments and passes at him as if he were a stripper. They didn't hide their intentions, although they didn't really have to. He was their property now- All of the victors were.

"Sad sight, isn't it?" A gruff voice from behind made him turn abruptly, only to face his 6 foot tall drinking partner, Chaff. Grunting in response, he swiftly took the offered glass of whisky from his friend, soundlessly finishing it in one mouthful.

"And to think, we're the lucky ones." Haymitch murmured, glancing back over at the District 4 boy who was now being shoved around by a team of stylists, all complimenting him endlessly as they practically showed him off to the entire party. Even President Snow had made an appearance at the far side of the room, watching him carefully. Resisting the urge to growl or vomit in disgust, Haymitch grabbed another drink, downing it in a rush. Looking up, he was met with the ever-aging face of the mentor of District 4 tributes, Mags. She looked more tired than ever, the lines on her face seemingly heavier. Lifting the remainder of his drink from his hands, she drank the rest of it, resulting in laughter from both Haymitch and Chaff.

"He needs help, Haymitch. He's just a boy. He won't listen to me." She whispered, ever aware of the endless amounts of Capitol ears floating around. Her eyes met his in a desperate attempt at helping her tribute, to no avail most likely. Although almost entirely drunk, Haymitch was not without sympathy or morales, and he owed the utmost respect to this woman.

"I'll see what I can do, but I'm not making any promises." He whispered, walking slowly over to the crowds of people, managing to weave through them with two drinks in his hands at the ready. Placing him self expertly on a chair right beside the boy, he had already managed to disperse the many party-goers around him, as most despised his lack of social grace and ever so charming habit of disposing his dinner on the floor. Green eyes stared into grey, and for a second the room went still. Nothing moved, nothing could be heard. All Haymitch could see was a boy- A young boy. A boy that'd been thrust into a life he didn't want, didn't choose. It irked at him. Shoving the drink into the boys hands, he grimaced.

"I'm going to tell you this once, and once only. Man to man, or should I say, man to boy. You're not going to like the life you're going to live. In fact, you're going to hate it. But what I can say is, there are ways to make it easier. Ways to surpass the pain you'll be put through, no matter how relentless. Listen to me carefully. You are now a product of the Capitol, and it would be wise not to think otherwise. Every move you make will be judged by them, so make life easier and smile and bear it. They'll find ways to use you. Ways you won't like, won't want and most certainly won't enjoy. But you'll have to look past that, because it's unavoidable. Don't let them break your spirit. My advice? Find something you can hold onto and don't let go, otherwise life from here on in is going to become ridiculously awful." Haymitch paused, staring at the wide green eyes that stared back at him. Drinking a sizeable amount of alcohol, Haymitch placed the glass on the table, turning back.

"Does it get easier?" Finnick's voice was dry, the words catching slightly in his throat. The smile was gone from his face and his eyes averted to anywhere but Haymitch's penetrating stare. His feet began to nervously tap, until a foot was placed firmly above his own.

"No, kid. It doesn't. That's why you've got to learn to cope." Haymitch replied firmly, standing up swiftly. Leaning forward, he placed a strong hand on the boys shoulder to give a reassuring squeeze.

"Don't let them break you." He whispered, giving one last stare before he left, not looking back. It would be too difficult.

It had been 4 years since their first encounter, and there had been many small conversations and useless small talk inbetween. Finnick was no longer a 14 year old boy, brand new into the Capitols world- He was now a man. Haymitch had helped him along the way, having regular meetings with the boy at Mags' request. 18 years old, he stood tall and proud, presented on almost every TV across Panem, dimpled smile and bronzed body becoming a hit with everybody everywhere. He'd learnt well. Standing in the corner at one of the endless amounts of parties hosted by President Snow, Haymitch sighed silently, drinking his usual ridiculous amount of whiskey. He despised the way they would all walk around, observing him like an animal at a zoo. That wasn't even nearly as bad as the way they looked at _him, _viewing him like a stripper on a pole. It made him feel sick, yet Finnick seemed oblivious to it all, smiling and laughing along with all of the useless Capitol praises. He'd learnt well enough, in a sense. Walking out onto the isolated balcony, Haymitch breathed in the fresh air sparingly, the noises of the ongoing party unheard and thankfully, unseen.

"It seems you are oblivious to your own advice, Abernathy." A smooth voice brought Haymitch back to reality as he turned to face a scarcely dressed Finnick, his face adorned with a smirk. Standing beside him, he leant over the balcony, staring down at the pool beneath them.

"Someone's getting a little big for their boots. If I wanted the opinion of a kid, I would have asked for it, sweetheart." Haymitch replied, glaring at the fiery head of hair that was dangerously close to his face. He observed the man, watching as his green eyes sparkled in earnest, clearly imagining himself anywhere but here.

"And yet you still chose to help me, all of these years. Even when I came to ask you about the most awkward of things, you still helped me. Let me repay you." Finnick whispered, turning to face the still slightly taller Haymitch, his hand reaching out to pull slightly on the blonde hair on the nape of Haymitch's neck. Haymitch hissed slightly, glaring yet again. Finnick simply smiled, dimples appearing yet again.

"Teaching you how to act like a stripper is one of my less admirable achievements, sweetheart." Haymitch replied in a gruff voice, the alcohol making his speech slur slightly, his words stinging. Finnick simply ignored the words, unbuttoning the first few buttons on Haymitch's shirt, nipping at the exposed skin on his pale neck. Pushing him back into the cold stone wall, Finnick began to slide his warm palms up Haymitch's scarred and firm chest, lightly scratching. Haymitch seemed dazed, at a loss for words as he simply watched the teenager before him litter his neck with chaste kisses. Finnick's hands grasped onto Haymitch's brown belt, beginning to undo it soundlessly as he dropped to his knees, just beginning to unbutton his pants as Haymitch grunted, attempting to get his attention. Finnick looked up, pleading green eyes meeting stern grey.

"What are you doing, Odair?" Haymitch whispered, his hand sliding onto a cold cheek, leaving a soft pink flush on the teenagers cheeks. Finnick simply tried to continue his ministrations, until he was lifted to eye level.

"Let me pay you back," Finnick pleaded, his eyes begging, "Let me help you the way you helped me, for just one night." He whispered, his head resting on a solid shoulder. Haymitch sighed, running his hand through Finnick's blonde curls in a comforting fashion.

"You don't need to pay me back at all. You don't need to pay anybody back at all, and you don't need to do it like that." Haymitch growled, roughly grasping his chin and turning it to face him. Bracing his hands on Haymitch's chest, Finnick flung himself forward, connecting his lips with Haymitch's in a heated, drunken kiss. Finnick gasped and moaned as Haymitch responded accordingly, his stubble brushing against his clean shaven chin as he bit Finnick's bottom lip, pulling his head back roughly by his hair, making him blush like no other person in the entirety of Panem could. Pulling back for air, Finnick began to breathe heavily, his eyes heavily lidded with shock.

"You need to find someone to love, Finnick. Don't waste your body on just anybody that isn't worth it. Especially me." Haymitch stated, quickly re-adjusting himself as he quickly hurried back into the room, leaving Finnick stood on the balcony. Inwardly cursing himself with the worst words known to man, Haymitch left Finnick for the second time without looking back, apart from this time, he knew that if he looked back, he'd be leaving with somebody else.

It had been over a decade since that incident, yet there was barely a moment it left Haymitch's mind every time he saw the man flaunting around, even if he had stopped his advances. This occasion was particularly worse, as stood metres in front of him was Finnick in a pristine suit, Annie Cresta stood before him in a beautiful white dress, her long brown hair covered with flowers. And, he'd never looked happier. As they kissed, Haymitch felt happy for him- Bitterly happy. Finnick had found someone, as he couldn't. Approaching Haymitch, Finnick simply smiled, placing a quick kiss on the man's cheek.

"I didn't forget what you said, you know," He said, sea green eyes staring knowingly, "I've found something I can hold onto and I won't let go."


End file.
